Children of Hope (59 page)

Anselm’s eyes narrowed. He took my arm from Corrine, propelled me across the corridor. “Listen here, joey.” Little Janey watched, openmouthed.

“Let him go, Mr Anselm.” Corrine’s eyes were troubled.

Tad’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’ll be no talk of fire and burning, not—”

“I wasn’t—all I meant was—”

“Not on this ship. Understand?”

“Yes!” At last he let me go. I rubbed my stinging arm against the bulkhead. “I wasn’t suggesting …” I felt a clumsy oaf. I stamped my foot.

Gently, Corrine took my arm in hers. “Keep walking, we don’t want their attention.” When we were safely out of earshot she said to Anselm, “No use pretending it isn’t what they’re saying.”

“How do you know? Has anyone dared—”

“No one’s threatened me. Not directly.” Her face was flushed. “You think Pandeker hasn’t read that verse to them, or worse?
And in her was found the blood of prophets, and of saints.
They’re talking about Babylon, but it’s easy to twist Scripture, when you know it by heart. Don’t squeeze, Janey, we’re not fighting.”

We walked a while in silence.

Anselm cleared his throat. “Randy, perhaps …” A sigh. “I’m sorry. I was a bit hasty.”

“It’s all right.”

“Our nerves are shot. We’re all worried about Mr Seafort. And when I’m not sitting at that bloody table with the outrider, I’m lying awake thinking of what to try next.”

I knew Tad’s negotiations were getting nowhere; no one had thought to cancel the feed to the monitor in our cabin. “You’re supposed to let me help.”

“I wasn’t told that directly. You’ll have to clear it with Lieutenant Tolliver.”

I said, “Why don’t you ask?”

“It’s not my place. Or my problem.”

“But he won’t see me.” Lord God knew, I’d tried.

“I can’t just … on my own authority.”

I said resentfully, “You took me to sickbay on your own authority.”

“When was—oh.” He flushed at the memory of his encounter with Captain Tolliver, when I’d been a prisoner. “That was different.”

“Why?”

“That was only about us.”

“Not about anything important?” My tone dripped sarcasm.

“Don’t be a child!”

“But he
is
a child.” Corrine, her voice reasonable. “Trying to act an adult. Help him.”

Anselm scowled, tapped his foot. Then, “Tomorrow, after lunch, we’ll visit Mr Tolliver.”

I wore a clean jumpsuit, which I’d struggled to don. My face was washed, my hair as combed as I could manage. Almost, at times like these, I was glad they’d be giving me a prosth. I tiptoed past Fath, went out to the corridor. “Ready.”

Midshipman Yost looked me over. “Let’s go, then. Sir.”

“You don’t have to do that, Tommy. I’m no ‘sir.’” I’d never liked him; once, I’d even threatened to report him to Mr Riev. But now, his wary deference left a bad taste.

“I’m not sure what I have to do.” He blurted it out, then colored.

“This is a stupid charade.” I spoke without thinking. Why did I need a middy to escort me to Lieutenant Tolliver’s quarters?

How often had Fath let me onto the bridge? Didn’t I report to Dr Romez in sickbay every afternoon, just a few hatches from Mr Tolliver?

“Orders.” Automatically, he tugged at his jacket, straightened his tie.

“Is Tad—Mr Anselm—here yet?”

“I’m not sure, sir.”

I opened my mouth to object, let it be. I wasn’t ship’s boy any longer. That left me a passenger. Middies were expected to show courtesy to every passenger aboard. Besides, I was the Captain’s son, and presumably had his ear; so if Tommy was afraid of me, it was understandable. Perversely, though, it wasn’t what I wanted. Not long past, I’d have reveled in a middy’s discomfiture at my behest. Now, what I wanted was …

A friend.

Tommy knocked, stood back.

The hatch slid open. “Yes, Mr Yost?” Tolliver’s eyes found mine. “What’s
he
doing here? Officers’ quarters are off-limits to—”

I hated when joeys spoke past me, as if I were a spot on the deck. “I had a middy escort.” I sounded defiant, though I knew I shouldn’t.

“Well, have your middy escort you below to your cabin.”

That did it: the hell with consequences. “I live on this Level!”

“Ah, yes,” Tolliver said. “Perhaps I’d forgotten.” Not bloody likely. “Clear the corridor, Mr Yost.”

“Aye aye, sir.” The middy took my arm.

The wisp of contempt in Tolliver’s manner was like a dash of ice water. I blinked, took a long, slow breath, studied him. “I sure hope you Log it. Are you honorable enough for that?”

It startled him, as I’d intended. “Log what?”

I braced myself against Tommy’s persistent tug. “Refusal to obey the Captain’s orders.” Now, I’d never get to work with the alien, but I was past caring. “Or was that guff you gave me in my cell pure hypocrisy?”

It was his turn to study me. “Hold, Mr Yost. Explain your self, joey.”

I closed my eyes, summoned a dim memory of his voice.
“I believe justice must be done, and seen to be done. We live in an era of law, not the Rebellious Ages. The stability of society depends on malefactors being punished.
What’s the penalty for disobeying a superior’s lawful order?”

He folded his arms. “What order might that be, Master Carr?” His voice was ominously low. Tommy Yost shifted from foot to foot. His eyes darted along the corridor, toward what might have been safety.

“Captain Seafort ordered that I be allowed to help Tad with the alien.”

“You know so for a fact?”

“No, sir. But you do.” Yearning to flinch, I held his gaze.

At last he said, “Dismissed, Mr Yost. Randy, inside.” He shut the hatch behind us.

Mr Tolliver’s cabin was gray, spartan, half the size of Fath’s. The bunk was made with precision, all his gear in order.

I licked dry lips.

He shook his head. “You have no sense. That wasn’t a scene for the middy to witness.”

“What choice had I? You wouldn’t give me an appointment.”

“For good reason.” Then, to my utter astonishment, “Take a seat.”

“Thank you.” I did.

“All I want, Randy, is for that damned beast to get itself gone. If I never see another fish ’til the day I die, it’ll be too soon.” He sighed. “But instead of referring the matter to home authorities, Nick seized an opportunity any sensible man would shirk. Perhaps he’ll be proven right, as so often before.” A grimace. “But I don’t like it.”

“It’s an opportunity to change the worlds.” And I wanted aboard.

“I disagree with Nick. We shouldn’t let you anywhere near Harry.” He held up a hand. “I admit, last time, you came up with useful approaches. You seem to have an instinct.”

“Well, then?”

“Trouble is, we’ve a deadly alien aboard, and you, joeyboy, are wild and unpredictable. You act on impulse, and your impulses are bizarre.”

I leaped to my feet, lip trembling.

“What, you disagree? You brained Nick with a chair. You stowed away on a ship’s launch for no sane reason.
Stowed away,
like some joeykid in a cheap holodrama! Good Christ!” He paced the tiny cabin. “You tortured Orbit Station’s Commandant for his codes. You hijacked a fucking
shuttle
! Shot up Hope Nation’s courthouse. Have I left out anything?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What?”

“I saved Fath. They’d have burned him.” But I’d gotten Anth killed. And Kevin. I tried to think of something else.

“Yes, son, you have Derek Carr’s courage. And just between us—where no one will hear—you acted nobly. You look surprised? From the moment you were hauled to a cell, ’til that ghastly scene in the engine room, I admired you immensely. It was all I could manage not to pardon you.” After a moment, “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.” I sank into my seat, covered my eyes.

“Ah, Randy.” A steadying hand, on my good shoulder. “Has Mikhael been looking after you?”

“Yes, sir.” After a fashion.

“I’ll warrant he’s not much of a father.”

“He’s had no practice.” I managed a smile.

“You’re lonely?”

Scornfully, I shrugged it away. Then, abruptly, as if from the mouth of a treacherous stranger, “Every minute of the day.”

Mr Tolliver said, “The fate of the worlds rides on our conclave with the alien, but Nick Seafort, the only one among us who favors it, is unconscious. One misstep, and Lord God knows what the outrider would do. If he breaks loose, he could destroy
Olympiad.
With your history, how could I possibly let you near?”

I slumped deeper into the chair. It took effort to speak loud enough to be heard. “You can’t.”

“That’s so.” Wearily, he made his way to the hatch. “But it’s not my decision. Nick’s made it, and as you’ve pointed out, I’m duty bound to obey.”

Heart pounding, I came to my feet.

“I’m begging you, Randy:
don’t be rash.
For the sake of us all, say nothing to the alien, unless Tad agrees. Follow his orders. You’re there to help, not—”

“I promise!”

“I’d be more reassured if you took more than a millisecond to—”

“Honest, sir. I’ve—” I struggled for the right words. “Fath will wake soon. What’s he seen of me since we came home? Tantrums in sickbay, until they let me visit him. Sullenness, when I didn’t get my way. And spying at hatches. Yes, that’s me. But it’s not all I’d be. Let me redeem myself!” I listened to my words, appalled. I’d never intended to reveal myself so.

Mr Tolliver searched my eyes. “He means that much to you?”

Miserably, I nodded. “Much more.”

“Very well, I’ll pass the word. You’re on Harry’s watch.”

“Thank you.”

“As ship’s boy.”

“What?” My heart leaped.

“I’m reinstating you.”

“But Fath said not until—”

“He’s free to beach you when he wakes.” Tolliver glowered. “We’ll have better control of you, or perhaps that’s only a comforting illusion. At any rate, you’re subject again to the Naval Regulations and Code of Conduct, Revision of 2238. You’re familiar with their provisions.”

“Some of them.” My tone was wary.

“Don’t make me enforce them. Anyway, it’s more … shipshape. Can’t have a passenger mucking about in vital ship’s business.” He waved it away. “And … Randy?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I know I’m not …” He seemed at a loss for words. “I’m not Nick, nothing like him. But I’m here, when I’m not on the bridge. If you ever need … talk, or advice, or …” He gestured helplessly.

“I will.” But I wouldn’t, and I suspected he knew it.

“Very well, then.” He slapped open the hatch.

Tad Anselm stood outside, fist raised to knock. “Sorry I’m late,” he said cheerfully. “Should we have a talk?”

I walked on air back to our cabin, and past it. Mr Tolliver was an ogre, certainly, but a first-class ogre: he could be reached by truth. And by a joey who wasn’t withered by his biting manner.

I was to start with the outrider the very next day; Tad and I had agreed on that much before he sent me packing so that he might have a private word with the first lieutenant. And I would do just as Tolliver asked: I’d be circumspect, cautious. Tad was older, and—I caromed off a stiff outstretched arm.

“Watch where you’re going!”

I blinked. I’d bumped into Alon Riev. Literally. He was in full uniform, duffel slung over his shoulder.

“Sorry.” I stood aside.

The first middy’s eyes were hard. “Well, I trust you’re satisfied.”

I wrinkled my brow, puzzled.

“You and Tamarov make quite a team.” He surged forward; involuntarily I retreated to the bulkhead. He loomed over me. “Six years since Academy. The finest posting in the galaxy. And I’m brought down by a pair of contemptible schemers.”

I took in his overstuffed duffel.

“That’s right, I’m headed groundside. Posted to Admiralty, thanks to his imperial majesty, Captain Seafort. Solitary confinement in a frazzing backwater, ’til the next interstellar ship makes port. Congratulations. What’s your payoff? I know what Mikhael gets.”

“I never meant …” My words slowed. Perhaps I had.

“You’re scum. It’s enough that you know it, and I know.” He rebalanced his duffel, strode off.

I’d been on my way to Dining Hall. Now, all thought of food forgotten, I rushed to the lift, punched in Level 5.

The hatch opened, depositing me belowdecks. I raced along the corridor, skidded to a stop at Ms Sloan’s room, hammered on her hatch.

No answer. I stepped back, looked around. This section of the corridor was deserted. Something caught my eye, on the hatch. Drawings. Obscene ones. I wiped them with my sleeve, but they’d need solvents, or paint.

Our first session with Harry was a laughable anticlimax. Or it would have been, had Lieutenant Anselm not been so tense he’d nearly bitten my head off. I sulked until he did the same to a lounging guard, and Alejandro, when the young ship’s boy brought coffee. Afterward, he apologized all round.

We’d gotten absolutely nowhere.

We’d been trying to establish symbols for time. Easy, right? Well, how do you tell an alien your idea of a year, or a day? You show a planet rotating, for a day, and revolving around its sun, for a year. So you draw a solar system, but there are millions of them in the galaxy; which one are you talking about? Earth’s home system, perhaps. Or Hope Nation, whose day is roughly similar, but which has an entirely different year. Or could we mean the outrider’s distant system, wherever that might be? Whatever we did, Harry erased or stood there, mottled colors flowing over his ever-changing form.

I stalked toward my cabin, hands in pockets, Tad keeping pace alongside.

In consolation, Anselm’s fingers touched my shoulder. “We’ll try tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He frowned.

“Yes, sir.” A ship’s boy owed as much to an officer. Still, it was hard to put my feelings aside. We’d spent hour after hour and wasted Lord God knew how many alumalloy plates.

It was a hard nut to crack. What’s your system reference: the number of planets you etch on the alumalloy plate? And even if you somehow make that clear, how does Harry know you’re trying to convey time, and not some arcane point of astronomy?

I slapped open our cabin hatch, gave Anselm a surly grunt of good-bye, slipped within.